


The Silence of Dying

by shallowlives



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, The Academy Is...
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, M/M, based off the Cobra Starship Reality Show video, practically just 12000 words of Gabe and William being messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowlives/pseuds/shallowlives
Summary: Gabe wasn’t stupid. He knew what William had told him was absolutely disordered, fucked up, andextremelyconcerning behavior. It obviously wasn’t healthy.In a way, however, Gabe was desperate enough to lose weight that he was stupid enough to attempt it. It couldn’t be that bad if it only was for a few weeks, right?-----Gabe goes on a downward spiral after Ryland calling him fat gets to him perhaps more than it should have.
Relationships: William Beckett/Gabe Saporta
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The Silence of Dying

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Memento Mori by The Academy Is...
> 
> The idea came from the Cobra Starship reality tv show video when Gabe and Ryland were calling each other fat. I intended for it to be a lot shorter, but I had a little too much creativity and time and here we are. If you haven't seen it, the specific skit the fanfic starts with is at 8:42 in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgDJBIjaqj4&t=1s
> 
> Also, this is could be pretty triggering if you have an eating disorder although I doubt you need me to tell you that. This the second fanfic I've written that's made my friend worried with how supposedly realistic it is haha :,)
> 
> **Hotlines and resources for eating disorders: https://edresources.carrd.co/**

“You’re fat!”

“You’re fat!”

“No, I’m fat? You’re fat, what the--” Ryland reached out to jab at Gabe’s stomach. “What is _this?_ ”

“No, you’re fat!” He pushed Ryland’s arm away.

“What’s all this over here, back fat?” Ryland yet again reached out for Gabe’s back. As they poked and pushed at each other’s arms and stomachs, their shoes squeaked against the open kitchen’s tile floor.

Vicky twisted around on the couch to look at them. “Both of you are fat, shut up.” She interrupted, clearly annoyed by their teasing.

Ryland and Gabe looked over and started to laugh, pointing their fingers at her.

“Don’t even get me going, bro.” Ryland said.

While they walked out of the kitchen, Gabe felt the need to defensively call out, “Fatty.” as a last insult.

Gabe usually didn’t even think of his weight; he was tall, he could eat anything he wanted and never gain a pound, a helpful attribute when he grew up eating greasy and fried Jewish and Uruguayan foods. Everyone told him he was lean, everyone told him they were jealous of his body. He had nothing to worry about.

However, ever since he and Ryland had gotten riled up teasing each other about being fat, Gabe couldn’t help but stare in the bathroom mirror after stepping out from a shower. He wiped away the fog on the mirror with the palm of his hand to see himself clearly.

He looked at his thighs first, and then his stomach, and his hips, and his back. Slowly, he began to see what Ryland was talking about. There had been some truth to his remarks, Gabe had to give him credit for that. He had no idea how he didn’t notice it before when it was right there in front of him all along.

Gabe decided he could stand to lose a few pounds.

“What’s your secret?”

“What secret?” William tiredly asked from over the phone. He’d just been woken up from a nap by Gabe’s call, which he was obviously not too pleased about.

Gabe hesitated, looking around the hallway to make sure nobody was there. He especially didn’t want the camera crew to catch him obsessing over what Ryland had said earlier. More hushed, he said, “How you stay so skinny.”

“Dude, you called me to ask about _that?_ ” William sighed heavily, and there was a slight rustle of bedsheets as he sat up. “I just have a good metabolism. And you do, too. You’re probably skinnier than me.”

“Yeah, whatever, cut the crap. How do I lose weight?”

“You literally don’t need to lose weight. Why the hell do you care all of a sudden? Is the show producer telling you to lose weight or something?”

“ _No!_ ” Gabe realized he might have denied William a little too loudly and, hoping nobody heard, squeezed himself further into the corner he was standing in. He nervously looked around again. “It’s just that… I don’t know, me and Ryland were messing around earlier and calling each other fat and I kinda realized he was right, you know? I really am fat.”

“You’re _not fat._ ” William groaned. “How many fucking times do I gotta tell you? Stop worrying about what he said. It’s not true, he was literally just bugging you. He didn’t actually mean it.”

“I only want to lose a few pounds.” Gabe promised. “Please, come on, give me something to work with here. If you don’t tell me anything, I’ll just have to figure it out myself.”

William was silent for a few moments as he thought. “You swear it’s just a few?”

“I swear.”

“I don’t eat breakfast. Sometimes not even lunch, except when I’m on tour. I drink an ungodly amount of tea and black coffee. If I have to eat a snack, I eat a sad little rice cake. I count the calories of every single thing I consume, including alcohol. I walk on the treadmill until my knees are shaking. At restaurants I dip the fork in the little container of salad dressing instead of pouring it on. I take freezing cold showers, for at least an hour or until my wife yells at me to get out. There, I told you. Happy?”

Gabe had tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he’d used a pen and scrap of paper in his pocket to write down everything William had been saying, holding the paper against the wall for a surface. “Okay, so no breakfast, no lunch, just tea and black coffee, rice cakes, counting calories, exercise, being weird about salads, and cold showers. Anything else?”

William was quiet again and then cursed, “You fucking _idiot._ You’re not actually supposed to take those as tips. Do you really want to put yourself through that shit? You couldn’t last a week. It’s awful.”

“Oh, I could totally do it for a week.” Gabe said. “I think it’s doable. How many calories should I shoot for? I think I wanna lose at least five pounds before we’re done shooting.”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to actually tell you? No, for you to follow my diet is insane! I… I can’t believe you would subject yourself to that.”

“I’ll call you back in a week and tell you how it went.” Gabe swiftly hung up and, as he looked up, spotted a cameraman who had been silently filming from down the hall. Fear flooded Gabe’s veins as he shouted, “I swear, you better delete that footage _right now!_ ”

Gabe wasn’t stupid. He knew what William had told him was absolutely disordered, fucked up, and _extremely_ concerning behavior. It obviously wasn’t healthy.

In a way, however, Gabe was desperate enough to lose weight that he was stupid enough to attempt it. It couldn’t be that bad if it only was for a few weeks, right?

He started the next morning. Gabe walked right past the fridge and to the cabinet to make himself black coffee while everyone else was at the table, eating breakfast while they were filmed. Once the coffee machine had finished brewing, Gabe took the cup without bothering to add sugar or cream and sat at the table. Everyone stared at his lack of a plate.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Ryland finally asked, stirring his cereal.

“I’m not really hungry.” Gabe said. He lifted the cup of coffee to his lips, the bitter and warm liquid only enunciating the emptiness in his stomach. “Kinda nauseous, actually.”

Everyone else shrugged and continued the breakfast conversation as normal.

“Who left the shower turned to _cold?_ ” Nate yelled, barging into the living room wearing only a bathrobe. “I’m freezing! Haha, very funny, but who did it?”

Everyone else looked at each other, trying to discern who it had been. Gabe kept his eyes on the magazine in his lap.

Nate paced the room. “Seriously, who did it?” He noticed Gabe was the only one not making eye contact and snatched the magazine from him. “Gabe, did you do it?”

“Okay, fine, I did.” Gabe admitted, busied with trying to grab the magazine back.

“Now that wasn’t hard.” Nate dropped the magazine back in his lap. “It’s really not that fun, though, so can you not do it again?”

“I didn’t leave the shower turned that way on purpose, I just like cold showers.”

“Nobody _actually_ likes cold showers, you freak.”

“Well, I do. I’ll try not to leave it turned that way again, okay?” He flipped a page in his magazine, coming across an article about the prevalence of eating disorders in celebrities that he quickly skipped past. “Leave me alone.”

After a few days of restricting his caloric intake and grueling exercise, Gabe stepped on the scale.

He’d learnt to deal with the pain of hunger he woke up with every morning, learned to casually pass off all the questions of why he was only having tea for breakfast and only tomato soup for dinner. It had already become an exhilarating, encouraging feeling to feel himself winning.

And then he’d fucked up. In the middle of the night, after what felt like hours of feeble trying to convince himself he wasn’t _that_ hungry, he ran out of his bedroom to the kitchen. He hardly bothered to check what was kosher or vegan as he raided the pantry, ending up consuming a whole package of dry chocolate chip cookies, the remainder of a box of crackers that were mostly crumbs and salt, and half a bag of greasy tortilla chips. He had torn them all open as if he hadn’t seen food for days, shoving them into his mouth as he sat on the kitchen floor in the dark.

The constantly-resurfacing hunger had finally disappeared. He was full. But it wasn’t the pleasant, luxurious fullness one would normally enjoy, such as after a satisfying holiday dinner. It was a disgusting feeling of heaviness in his stomach.

A feeling of failure. As if everything he’d worked for was for nothing. All the hours he’d spent lifting weights until his arms trembled and going on runs until his legs felt nonexistent, all the meals he’d spent eating pathetically tiny portions and being subjected to his bandmate’s worried stares. He’d never _really_ be able to say he was skinny if he couldn’t discipline himself.

So when Gabe stepped on the scale, he was shocked to find he’d lost one pound. For a moment, it was joyous; he usually only lost weight after getting sick. 

But one pound wasn’t enough. It could have been more, he started to convince himself, if he just had the willpower _not_ to eat whatever he wanted in the pantry. At this rate, he’d never lose four more before shooting was over.

Gabe stepped off of the scale, overcome with misery, and grabbed his cell phone off of the bathroom counter. He called William’s number and waited for him to pick up, which took barely a second.

“You haven’t responded back to my texts in days!” William immediately exclaimed. “I’ve been so worried! What the hell, man?”

“Sorry.” Gabe said. His voice was thick with dread. “I’ve just been busy with the show and writing music and everything.”

“Uh huh.” William hardly sounded convinced. “That’s a lie. I can tell by your voice you’ve tried out having an eating disorder. That’s what you’re calling about, aren’t you? _Isn’t it fun?_ ”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, I know you’re stubborn. And your voice sounds like crap. So, how’s it going?” William asked. “Did you skip one meal and cry about it and quit after an hour?”

“It was going just _fine,_ thank you very much. I was eating under eight hundred calories for several days and exercising for two hours every day and drinking all this shitty tea and black coffee and taking freezing-ass showers, and I was doing fucking awesome until last night I ate practically everything in the pantry, and I’ve only lost _one pound,_ and I’m a fucking failure and I’m really about to freak the fuck out about this, and…” Gabe had forgotten to breathe, and sucked in a sharp intake of air as he felt his heart race just as much as his mind was.

“You _actually_ took what I said _seriously?_ ” William started to sound nearly as panicked as Gabe. “Holy shit, you need to stop now. I am not going to be responsible for giving you a damn eating disorder, what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I can’t just stop now, though.” Gabe combed his fingers through the curls of his hair. He tugged at the strands, pulling them back as an attempt at distraction from his thoughts. _Fat. Stupid. Weak. Ugly. You’ll never be as skinny or controlled as him._ “I need to prove them wrong. I need to show everyone I’m not fat.”

“And you’re _not._ I swear, Gabanti, you are _not_ fat. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“I am.” Gabe sat against the bathroom counter and started to kick his foot against the bathroom carpet with every word. “I. Am. Fat. I am _so_ fat! I don’t know how I never saw it before.”

“If you don’t stop right fucking now, I _will_ fly out there.” William threatened. “I’ll barge right into the fancy mansion you guys are filming in and tell you how fucking ridiculous you’re being. You need to stop before it’s too late!”

“I can’t! I’ll stop when I lose five pounds, okay?”

“It doesn’t just _stop_ when you lose five pounds!” William snapped. “It never stops! You look at yourself and think you need to lose a few more, and a few more, and a few more! It becomes all you fucking think about! Do you know how many fucking songs I need to scrap because they’re all about how much I love starving myself?”

“I will stop, okay? I promise. It’s not even an eating disorder at this point, it’s just a really extreme diet. I’m going to be fine!”

“I tried to tell you.” His voice softened. “I hope you stop once you realize how stupid this is.”

“It’s not stupid!” Gabe cried out. Instead of kicking the bathroom rug, he accidentally kicked the wall with the tips of his toes, causing him to hiss in pain. “I really am fat!” He jabbed at his phone to hang up and slammed it down on the counter in frustration.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the scale again. A desperateness ebbed in him. Maybe if he just weighed himself _again,_ he’d have actually lost more weight than he thought. Maybe the scale was wrong the first time. Maybe--

There was a sharp pounding on the door. “Gabe, you okay in there?” Alex called out.

“Yeah!” Gabe sighed. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with the side of his hand. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

Gabe did better in the next few days, or at least what he considered his new definition of “better”. He remembered all the misery he’d felt when he binge-ate, remembered all the misery when he had only lost a pound. He allowed the misery to bubble over and take full control of every decision.

For dinner, he only had mushrooms and boiled carrots. It tasted like softness and salt and winning. Everyone else was, yet again, looking at him weirdly while they all ate spaghetti. They clearly didn’t approve of the mushrooms and carrots.

“So… how’s your dinner?” Vicky asked, twirling her spaghetti around her fork while she kept looking down at Gabe’s plate.

“Great.” Gabe said. That was all he said. He ate another chunk of carrot. Compared to the enticing smell of warm spaghetti and thick tomato sauce, it didn’t taste like softness and salt and winning anymore. He knew the cameras were definitely focused on him and his sad meal, so he tried not to display any change in emotion at his craving for spaghetti.

“We’re worried about you.” Ryland said. He opened his mouth again, searching for words, but ended up closing it and looking back down at his spaghetti sadly.

“Worried about what?” Gabe inquired casually. He figured it would be least suspicious to play it off.

“Well, for one thing, we heard you screaming ‘I’m fat’ from the bathroom and kicking the wall.” Alex said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even though there was still an abundance of mushrooms and carrots left on his plate, Gabe stood up and picked up his plate. “Anyone want to play video games after you guys are done eating?”

“This conversation isn’t over, Gabe.”

But apparently the conversation was over, because he still left with his plate to scrape the rest of the food into the trash.

Late into the night, Gabe found himself on his laptop, googling his name and the word ‘fat’ together. Just out of curiosity. Just to see what results came up.

One of the first results was a forum post from about a year ago. Someone asking if Midtown Gabe or Cobra Starship Gabe was more attractive.

_Midtown Gabe for sure. He was totally skinnier back then. I guess he hasn’t gained THAT much weight, but something about him now just doesn’t do it for me._

He slammed the laptop shut before he could read more. Maybe William would be proud of that bit of willpower at least, as if all the starving wouldn’t exponentially subtract from any possible pride in him.

Gabe laid back down and tried to sleep, but the bright words on the screen had been branded into his thoughts even when he closed his eyes.

_but something about him now just doesn’t do it for me._

Gabe turned to his other side.

_but something about him now just doesn’t do it for me._

_He was totally skinnier back then._

_Midtown Gabe for sure._

Screw it. He couldn’t sleep. He sat up and pushed away the sheets.

His aching, gnawing hunger took control so he didn’t have to think. It guided his feet to the kitchen, opened the fridge for him. Forced him to eat calories upon calories.

Everything felt hopeless when Gabe finally saw the trash can filled with discarded packaging until he remembered some girlfriend he’d had in college. Someone he’d only dated for a few weeks, but always went to the bathroom when they were done eating at a restaurant. He’d figured out her secret quickly and always wondered _why._ Now he knew exactly why.

He walked to the bathroom, flipped open the toilet seat, and knelt down. Sticking his finger down his throat almost came naturally, much more naturally than how the vomit sputtered up after a few gags and heaving coughs. The smell and the thick acid coating his tongue were vile, but so was being fat. Gabe thought he would take throwing up any day over being fat.

A week passed by and Gabe was three whole pounds lighter. _Three pounds._

There was still no change in the mirror, however. He still had to work just as hard. Maybe five pounds wouldn’t be enough.

Gabe was standing up, guitar in hand, after showing Alex a new song he and Ryland had come up with that he swore did _not_ sound like The City Is At War, when his legs were suddenly hit with unbearably weakness and his vision faded to darkness. The guitar slipped out of his grasp, thumping against the ground melodically. He collapsed, being caught by Alex and Ryland scrambling to catch him just before he hit the floor.

Gabe came back to consciousness quickly a second after he had been caught, his mind still numb and confused and disorderly as to what had come over him. He mumbled, “What the fuck?” as Alex and Ryland guided him back onto the couch.

“That’s it.” Alex said to Ryland, ignoring Gabe’s question. “We can’t just fucking sit around and watch him do this shit to himself anymore.”

“You’re right.”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Gabe groaned and tried to sit up. “This is ridiculous. I’m fine.”

Before he could attempt to stand back up, Alex held out his hand to stop him. “You’re not going anywhere until you eat something.”

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich ominously sat on the plate before Gabe. It practically taunted him, the way the jelly oozed out and stained the plate with tinges of raspberry.

“This is stupid.” Gabe finally said, looking up from the plate at Ryland and Alex, who were standing by him at the kitchen island. “I don’t see what you think you’re going to accomplish with this.”

“Eat the sandwich.”

Gabe pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything. Even touching the sandwich would feel wrong.

“Is this because I called you fat last week?” Ryland demanded. When Gabe didn’t respond, he slammed the counter, shaking the plate. “It was, wasn’t it? Damn it, Gabe, I didn’t actually _mean_ it. You know we were just messing around!”

“I know.”

“ _Please,_ Gabe, just eat the sandwich.” Alex begged. “Just a few bites. _Please._ ”

Finally, Gabe experimentally picked up the sandwich, holding it delicately like it was a piece of rubbish to be discarded. He took a bite. The bread was soft and cold, the jelly was bright, the peanut butter was smooth. Even though he wanted more, it was difficult and thick to swallow. It went down his throat the way pork would if he ever were to eat it. Once he was finished with the first bite, the tension in both Ryland and Alex’s posture started to relax.

Meanwhile, Gabe did not relax. In fact, the taste left on his tongue only stressed him out more. He dropped the sandwich back onto the plate. “I’m done.”

“Please, just one more bite.” Ryland urged him. Gabe shook his head. “Come on, just one more.”

“I can’t.”

Ryland opened his mouth, but Alex spoke first. “We’ll talk more about this later. But I’m proud of you, okay, man? I know that must have been hard.”

“I’m not a fucking child, Suarez.” Gabe snapped, pushing the plate away with a clatter and pushing past the camera crew to get to his room.

It had barely been ten minutes when the show producer knocked on his door and asked to film him giving commentary on what just happened. Gabe’s plans to call William and cry were much more important, but since the producer _insisted,_ he guessed he had to postpone calling him for a few minutes.

“I don’t know what everyone is making such a big fuss about.” Gabe said. He hoped he’d be able to convince his manager to get the editors to cut this part of the show out. Maybe it would be easy; he didn’t think his failed attempts at losing weight would be that terribly interesting. Recently, he didn’t think even anything about himself was terribly interesting. His past self had started to feel like a facade even he convinced himself to believe “I’m fine. I’m just tired of everyone watching me all the damn time. Can I leave now?”

“They tried to make me eat a _sandwich,_ Bilvy. A _sandwich._ ”

“What type?”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“That sounds good.” William said. It was obvious he was yearning at just the mention of a sandwich. “I wish I could have one of those right now. I don’t even let myself buy peanut butter.”

“You’re not getting the point. They tried to make me eat a _sandwich,_ one of those disgusting calorie-and-carb-filled kind of things. I only ate one bite and I still felt gross.”

“How’d that happen, anyway?”

“So, Ryland and I were showing Alex this new song, which he didn’t even appreciate, and then I stood up, and I guess I ‘fainted’, but I don’t even know if that _really_ counts because I was only unconscious for like, a second? But yeah, so--”

“Wait,” William seemed shocked, “you _fainted?_ It’s been only, what? A week, two weeks since you started and you already _fainted?_ ”

“Yeah, so anyway--”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d fly out there.” He interrupted again, gravely serious. “I will. I’ll even call Pete to drive up there in the meantime to make sure you don’t fucking kill yourself by accident.”

“It’s not that big of a deal!” Gabe said. “I shouldn’t have even told you, you’re already blowing this out of proportion because you think you know everything--”

“I do know everything about eating disorders, because I fucking have one.” William said. “Look, I’ll see you on the soonest flight I can get out of here, okay?”

“You’re acting like I’m dying.”

“You are.”

“And so are you.” Gabe hissed. “Go fix yourself before you think you fucking know how to fix me!”

“I’m _trying._ ”

“Not hard enough, apparently. What’s the count up to for how many shows you’ve fainted at? Five, now? And three ambulance rides, right?”

“Shut up!” William snapped at him. “Whether you like it or not, I’m flying to New York before you go completely fucking insane. Until then, just try to eat something, okay? I’m doing this because I care about you. I love you, man. I’ll see you soon.”

Gabe hung up without responding and hurled his cell phone across his bedroom. It only narrowly missed hitting the wall, hitting the carpeted floor with a thump.

It was two A.M. when Gabe saw the bright, beaming headlights of a car pulling into the mansion’s driveway bleeding through his curtains. He didn’t think much of it, being tired, and tried to fall back asleep.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps outside his door and Ryland saying, “This is his room.” before he yawned loudly. Gabe continued to pretend to be asleep as he heard the door creak open and the light switch was flipped on, causing the room to be flooded with blinding light.

“Gabe?” It was Pete’s voice; William _really_ wasn’t kidding. “Gabe, you awake?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gabe groaned, pulling his bedsheets further up. “Dude, it’s so fucking late.”

“William’s worried about you.” Pete sat on the edge of his bed. “Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Gabe groaned again and sat up to entertain him. When Pete saw his face, his eyes widened as if he had just seen a ghost. He was shocked by the palor of Gabe’s skin that usually was tanned and the lack of life to light his face. Even though he had just woken up, his eyes looked remarkably more dead and hollow than they should have. “I’m _tired,_ Pete. Why now?”

“Gabe’s a fucking anorexic all of a sudden, that’s what’s been going on.” Ryland interjected. He had been standing in the doorway, watching their interaction. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He took a step back from the room and shut the door, presumably wanting to get back to his sleep already.

Pete looked back at Gabe after the door had been closed. “Is it true?”

“I’m not an anorexic, per say.” Gabe said. “I’m more of… just going on an extreme diet. It’s supposed to be this restrictive, you know? That’s how this particular one works.”

Pete slowly shook his head. “Dude, what happened? You never were worried about this before.”

“I’m not really that worried about it. I just realized… maybe everyone’s right. I could lose a few pounds. It’s been really good, I feel amazing, super healthy and energized.”

“That’s not what Bill told me.” Pete said. He sighed and glanced around the room. Just looking at Gabe’s face, hinting at the beginnings of emaciation, was taking a toll on him. “I know you don’t want to tell me the truth right now and that’s okay. I know it’s a sensitive subject. I’ll be here the rest of the week to help you out, alright?”

“The rest of the week? That’s ridiculous. You’ve got, like, a child to look after, and Decaydance, and…”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Pete stood up, but the bed still felt just as horrendously heavy with all of Gabe’s weight still on it. “We’ll have a discussion in the morning. William will probably be here by then, too. You go back to sleep, alright?”

“Sure.” Gabe grumbled, flopping back down onto his back and yanking his covers over him. “Whatever you say.”

Gabe woke up late. He usually did these days, as less time awake was less time to eat, but this time it was due to the scent of waffles wafting into his room.

“Gabe, I made you waffles.” William said gently, placing a plate onto the set of drawers next to his bed. He lightly touched his shoulder. “Come on, it’s afternoon.”

Gabe groaned and slowly sat up, the covers falling off of him. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was really seeing William right there. He was definitely skinnier since the last time he’d seen him, but even so, William seemed to hide his sickness with more ease. “You _seriously_ flew out here?”

“I think that’s already been established by me being here.” He sat down on Gabe’s bed, holding his own plate of waffles. “I made you breakfast. They’re blueberry.”

“I don’t really want it.” Gabe said. He let his eyes stray to his own plate that had been placed by his bed and damn, they looked _delicious._

“I’ll eat if you do.” William promised. He started to cut up his waffles, anticipating the moment whenever he could eat them. “Or I guess we’ll both be starving until dinner.”

“You bastard.” But he grabbed his waffles anyway and placed it in his lap, the warmth of the plate seeping through the blanket. He knew he would feel guilty if he was the reason William didn’t eat. Gabe didn’t bother with a knife and fork, tearing a piece off of the waffle and popping into his mouth. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until then; he hadn’t eaten since the one bite of sandwich, and almost nothing before that during the duration of the day.

William seemed satisfied and ate a bite of his own waffle. Gabe almost wished he didn’t; the way his boney fingers wrapped around the handle of the fork, the way his thin wrist twisted as he brought the fork to his mouth, the way he did it with his gorgeously lanky body induced envy. Gabe tore off another piece of waffle and pretended not to notice. He’d just have to kneel in front of the toilet after finishing.

“Is Pete still here?”

“Yeah.” William said. He was hesitating to eat a second bite of waffle, dragging it around his plate. He finally ate it after mentioning, “He’s meeting with the show producer right now.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Trying to get yourself out of this whole mess you’ve put yourself in.” William said. “He assumed you’d rather not have the development of your eating disorder all over TV. And he’s trying to get them to end the show sooner than scheduled.”

“End the show sooner?” Gabe scoffed. He had stopped bothering to rip off pieces of waffle, instead just holding the entire thing in his hand and greedily taking bites of it.

“Pete told me not to tell you yet, but…” William shook his head and pressed his lips together. “Forget what I said. I should wait until he tells you.”

“What?” Gabe asked, suddenly fearful. “You can’t just leave me hanging, what did he say?”

“He wants you to do recovery. I don’t know how intense, whether he just wants you to see a therapist once a week or do inpatient, but either way, he wants you to recover as soon as the cameras are off.”

“He can’t make me. I’m an adult. Besides, he’s never made you recover, and you’ve been at this longer than me.”

“Well, he doesn’t know about me.” William said. “You, meanwhile, have been painfully obvious. It’s all been recorded, after all.”

“Well, still, he can’t make me.”

“He said your album isn’t coming out until you agree to recover.”

“He can’t just do that.”

“He can, he’s Pete Wentz. One of your song titles is literally about how he’s the only reason you’re famous.”

Gabe finished his waffle and put the plate back on the set of drawers, getting up from the bed as William still had half of his own waffle left to eat. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“At least make it a warm one.”

“We’ll see.”

Gabe turned the shower all the way to cold, but it would still be a few minutes until he got in. He hoped the noise of the shower would drown out his throwing up.

He threw off his shirt to the floor, just to make sure he wouldn’t get anything on it, and knelt in front of the toilet. He stuck two of his fingers into his mouth and prodded, retching painfully until finally acid rose up his throat and he started to rid the contents of his stomach. He still hadn’t gotten used to the stench, but he hoped he would. Gabe was fully prepared to fake recovery and switch starvation for purging.

When the convulses of his stomach finally ceased, Gabe slammed down the toilet seat so he wouldn’t have to smell and sat back against the wall, waiting to regain his strength. His legs felt like jello even as he rested, trying to still his trembling and ignore the taste in his mouth of putrid acid and half-digested waffle. He coughed as he tried to catch his breath; it made his stomach lurch, only his resolve keeping him from throwing up again just at that.

He didn’t know how he’d last with this as a method of losing weight. It sucked way more than starving.

After he struggled through his cold shower, barely able to hold himself up and giving up just on rinsing shampoo out of his hair, Gabe wrapped a towel around his waist. He couldn’t tie the towel on as tight as usual and he didn’t bother to try.

He opened the door, his somewhat-stinking pajamas in his arms, and saw Pete, William, and everyone else in his band had been waiting for him outside the door. They all looked at him with pity as if he was an abandoned puppy. It was clear at least one of them had overheard him making himself throw up, and probably his shuddering breaths as he had tried to calm down, and probably his reassurances to himself of “Me lo merezco, I deserve to suffer through this cold-ass shower, me lo merezco” when he was shivering.

“We need to talk.” Pete stated. He used a voice that meant business and was rarely heard, making him all the more intimidated.

Gabe took one look at him. Panic overcame him and he attempted to sprint away, but he stumbled as he was quickly caught by Nate.

“Gabe, we just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help!” The pajamas dropped out of his hands while he tried to pry Nate’s hands off him. His breath incriminatingly smelled of vomit. “This is ridiculous! This is so fucking stupid! It’s _not_ what it sounded like, it’s not--”

“Gabe,” William said. “You’re killing yourself.”

“And so are…” Gabe’s voice trailed off and he slammed against the wall, caught before he could fall to the floor.

This time, it took him ten seconds to wake up.

“You are _not_ fat, Gabe!”

Gabe was slumped on the couch, looking down at the coffee table. He stuck his hand in front of him and studied his nails conceitedly. They weren’t blue _yet;_ therefore, he couldn’t possibly be that sick and this was all nonsense.

Pete stopped pacing the room and asked, “Gabe fucking Saporta, are you even listening to me?”

Gabe looked up at him. Even though his voice was hoarse, his eyes blazed with pure and unfiltered frustration. “I am. You’re wrong.”

“There are better ways to lose weight.” Pete said. “You could _die._ You could literally have a heart attack and die of this. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. We all love you, Gabe. Your self-worth is more than a number on a scale.”

“You wouldn’t get it.” Gabe deadpanned.

“I might not know what an eating disorder is like, but—”

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not an eating disorder.”

Pete ignored his denial and continued pacing again. “I just don’t _get_ it. How the hell do you just… spiral like this in just a few weeks? What happened? There’s gotta be some underlying problem here.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I’m your damn best friend, Saporta.”

“Still.” Gabe shrugged weakly. “You clearly _don’t._ I just wanted to lose a few pounds.”

“It has to be more than that. I know you. You’re stronger than this.”

Gabe was silent and lied down against the couch armrest. He was too tired to defend himself.

“What was it?” Pete questioned. “What made you so desperate? What made you see yourself so differently?”

He was silent again.

“This… it just doesn’t feel possible.”

“Because I’m not a teenage girl?”

“No, not that. It’s… I don’t know. You’ve never shown symptoms before.”

“If I did, I doubt you would have noticed.”

“Of course I would have!”

Gabe looked up at the ceiling doubtfully.

“What? Don’t tell me this has been going on longer than a few weeks.”

“No. I just know someone else you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, _really?_ ” Pete barely believed him, stopping his pacing again to cross his arms and stare down Gabe. However, his short stature hardly made him intimidating.

“Where do you think I got all my weight loss tricks from?”

“Then who is it?”

Gabe seemed to genuinely be debating whether or not to tell him. Pete almost looked scared to hear whose name it was, as he quickly already had his own guesses in mind.

“Fuck, don’t tell me it’s Patrick!”

“Not him.”

“Oh shit, it’s Ryan, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Then who is it?! Don’t make me guess everyone I know.”

Very meekly, Gabe whispered, “William.”

As Pete processed the name he’d said, his eyes widened with realization. “Oh. _Oh._ ” His mouth hung open as he was incredulous. “ _Him?!_ ”

“Are you that surprised?” Gabe mumbled. “Come on. You never noticed how fucking skinny he is? Like, his _thighs._ And his _jawline._ And his _hips._ ” He would, quite literally, have killed for William’s body.

“You’re either gay or _really_ fucked up.”

“Damn, must be gay then, because I don’t have an eating disorder.”

“But don’t think this means I’m going to be distracted from you. Until the show finishes shooting, I’ll be here to make sure you eat and don’t throw it up after. We’re all only doing this because we care about you.”

Gabe had started to think they really didn’t care. If they cared, they’d listen. “Whatever.”

William barged into Gabe’s room and slammed the door shut behind him. “You _told_ him. I can’t believe it. You fucking _told_ him, after everything I’ve tried to do for you!”

“Now you know how it feels.” Gabe said, putting down his cell phone and rolling onto his side on the bed to face William. “You’re sicker than me anyways. You’re the one he should be worried about.”

“He’s going to make me get _fat._ ” William threw himself down onto the bed and stole a pillow, hitting Gabe’s arm without much force. “I’ve worked so fucking hard to get to where I am, and he told me the same thing he told you. No albums or touring until I agree to fucking recover.”

“Can’t imagine how _that_ feels.” Gabe took the pillow from him and hugged it to his chest. “I’d be pretty pissed about it if _I_ was in that kind of situation.”

“Shut up.” William sat up, crossing his arms and glowering. “I should have never told you. Look where it’s got us. I gave you a fucking eating disorder, ruined your show, and put both our bands in jeopardy. All because I told you, very sarcastically may I add, some of the various ways I torture myself.”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?” The anger dropped from William’s expression. He rolled onto his side to face Gabe and reassured him, “No, Gabe, it’s not.”

“It is.” Gabe hugged the pillow tighter as tears gathered in his eyes. “I…” He choked out a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this.” William placed his hand on his shoulder and rubbed it in an attempt to comfort Gabe as he cried. “It’s my fault, ok? We’re both fucked up because of _me,_ alright?”

“I shouldn’t have… have thought about what he said.” Gabe sobbed. “About what Ryland… Ryland said. That I’m fat. I’m so _fucking_ fat!”

William wrapped his arm around Gabe’s shoulder to hug him while he trembled with cries. “It’s not your fault. It… it just happens. Getting an eating disorder is _not_ your fault. It takes over. It destroys you. It wasn’t your choice. If it was, it’d be over by now.”

Gabe shook his head. “I’m so stupid. I… I should have just been happy being fat.”

“Listen to me.” William leaned back, looked him straight in the eyes, and said, “You are _not_ fat. Nobody has ever thought of you that way.” With a whisper, he continued, “You’re beautiful, Gabanti. Absolutely gorgeous. There are so many people out there who are _so_ jealous of your body. I hope you realize that soon, okay? You don’t deserve to be thinking like this. You’re amazing.”

Gabe sniffled. William delicately wiped a tear from his cheek with his thumb. Neither of them broke eye contact.

William’s eyes fluttered shut. Before Gabe knew it, he leaned in closer to kiss him.

Gabe had brushed his teeth since that afternoon, but his lips still tasted faintly of acid although not enough to be bothersome. He returned the kiss, pushing away the pillow that separated them to move closer. William’s lips were sweeter since he hadn’t eaten anything since the waffles.

“Wait,” Gabe pulled back even though he was quite enjoying it. “You’re married.”

“Not for much longer.” William said. “We’re divorcing. She’s fed up with my ED shit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it was a long time coming.” He sighed sadly. “We can talk about some other time. If you’re not okay with this, I understand…”

“No, it’s fine.” Gabe assured him. “I liked it.”

William smiled lightly. “Good.” He leaned back in and kissed him softly.

It was the wee hours of morning, a few minutes before five A.M. when Gabe was tying his sneakers to go for a jog. He was hoping to run at least a distance of a mile and a half today.

He tiptoed through the hallway in the darkness. As he reached out for the front door, the light to the front hall was suddenly switched on.

“Going for a walk, Gabe?” Pete asked. Gabe spun around, alarmed, and saw he had been waiting for him. There wasn’t really any excuse Gabe could make, being incriminatingly dressed in neon green workout shorts and an old sweat-stained merch shirt.

“Uh… um…” Gabe froze in place and his hand dropped away from the door. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t I join you?” Pete suggested. “I could use the air. I’d love to see the sunrise, too.”

Pete wasn’t stupid. There was no possible way to get out of this, so Gabe unsurely eked out, “Okay?”

“Great! Stay right here while I grab my shoes.” Pete ran up the stairs. Gabe considered just walking out anyway without him, but Pete came back with a pair of sneakers in a matter of seconds. They were black and casual Converses, a stark contrast to Gabe’s bright purple athletic sneakers. “Let’s get going, then! How about we head to the lake and back?”

A walk to the lake and back was much less than the planned mile and half, but Gabe gritted his teeth and nodded.

Once Gabe had been caught up with all the somewhat pointless gossip Pete used to fill in the time while they leisurely walked alongside the road from the mansion, Pete said, “I’ve been looking into our options.”

“Options?” Gabe asked, even though he already knew what sort of options Pete was talking about.

“Here’s the deal.” Pete proposed. “We’ll evaluate where you are at the end of the show. If you actually try to recover, you can start out with seeing a therapist and see how it goes. Otherwise, we’ll have to look into something more… substantial.”

The clearing where the lake was located was starting to come into view in the distance. As Gabe stared out at it as they slowly neared it, he agreed, “Sure.”

“And we’re going to be watching you _really_ careful from now on, okay?” Pete said. “We all had a group discussion about it last night. You have to at least try to eat regular meals. No excessive exercise and no exercise without supervision. And whenever you use the bathroom or shower, someone has to be outside the door.”

“Outside the door? Come _on._ ”

“We want to help you.” Pete implored, although it was obvious he knew his attempts at persuasion would fall on deaf ears. “The moment I heard you making you throw up… Gabe, that was _horrifying._ I don’t want you to torture yourself like that anymore. If this thing is really as recent as you say it is, there’s still time to reverse it without any of the awful side effects. I know you feel like this is unnecessary and a huge intrusion, and it’s not because we don’t trust you, it’s because we all care about you so much.”

Gabe remained silent. He wondered what would happen if he just took off into the forest never to be seen again, but he still kept walking beside Pete.

“And since you know how it feels to be suffering with an eating disorder…” Pete mentioned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red hoodie, “Could you help out William, too? I know, I know nothing about this sort of thing, so… I think while you guys are together, you could really understand him, I think.”

“Together? What? Who said anything about us being _together?_ ”

“I meant ‘together’ as in being in the same location. Why?” Pete’s voice took on a more playful tone. “Did something happen between you two?”

Gabe scrunched his face and bit down on his lip as he tried not to smile, but that only made it more obvious. “Um… well… William and I did kinda… kiss yesterday, but that’s not really the point.”

“No way!” Pete cried out, scaring a nearby bird away. “Dude, you guys have always been pining for each other forever, and I swear, it’s painful to watch. It’s about fucking time.”

“I guess we’ll see where it leads.” Gabe shrugged, although he couldn’t help but smile too. “But yeah, I guess I’ll try to help him out. I’m not completely heartless. I’m guessing you’ve told him the same thing about me.”

“Yeah, I honestly have, only because I know he’ll get it. But that’s great, man, that you’ll try. I think you guys could really be good for each other, helping each other out instead of sharing tips or whatever the hell you were doing, you know?”

Gabe was still hesitant to agree. There was a sinking feeling in him that made him feel recovery would be the biggest mistake ever, but he tried to push past it. He told himself as long as he got through the week and passed Pete’s approval, he could fake recovery easily as much as he wanted to when he was back to living alone. “Sure.”

“Would you kill me if I used the scale while I was in the bathroom?”

William thought it over as Gabe poked his head out from the door, waiting for him to answer to close it. “Well,” William narrowed one of his eyebrows and turned to face Gabe’s head as he leaned against the wall. “I don’t think it would be good. Pete probably wouldn’t approve.”

“Is that a no or yes?”

William sighed. “Just this once. As long as I’m in there when you weigh yourself.”

“Awesome.” Gabe closed the door, used the bathroom, and afterward opened the door again so William could come in to watch as he weighed himself. William took a seat on the bathroom counter, crossing his leg over the other and leaning back against the mirror.

Gabe stood before the scale. Before he lifted his foot, William said, “Wait, before you go on, I know everyone says this, but your weight is just a number, okay? Nobody sees you as your weight but you.”

It almost made Gabe think William had no confidence he’d lost weight, but then again Gabe didn’t believe he’d lost much either considering all he’d been forced to eat since Pete’s arrival. “Okay. Thanks.”

Gabe inhaled, exhaled, and stepped onto the scale. After a moment, the number appeared. He lingered on the scale for a bit longer in shock, staring down at it and unable to say anything.

“What is it?” William asked. He had promised himself not to ask, but it was an all too intriguing topic.

“I’ve lost weight.” He stepped off of the scale and turned around to face William. His face lit up, ecstatic for a second before it really sunk in. “Over ten pounds so far! And… I’m just going to have to gain it all back, won’t I?”

“Oh. Wow.” William wasn’t sure how to properly respond. “Yeah, you will probably gain it back, but it’ll be good, right? You'll be healthier.”

“Healthier.” Gabe scoffed, trying to play it off cool even though a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. “ _Healthier._ It’s just a nicer way of saying fat.”

William slid off of the bathroom counter and placed his hands on Gabe’s shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. “You are the furthest thing from fat.” He reassured him. “When you gain weight, it will be tough, but you’ll still be just as gorgeous.”

Gabe’s eyes strayed to the toilet. “I wanna…” He didn’t finish his sentence. William wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight.

“I know.” William said, slowly rocking both of them back and forth. “It’s hard. But feeling healthy is going to be so worth it.”

“Like _how?_ ”

“You’ll have energy. You won’t have to worry about every single thing you eat. You’ll be glowing. You’ll live as long as you should.” As William had said each one, he found himself yearning to believe them about himself, too. “It’s not easy, but it’ll be so worth it. Trust me, okay?”

Gabe’s head had sunken in his shoulder, and he nodded against the fabric of William’s t-shirt. “Okay.” He mumbled, voice muffled by cotton, before he finally raised his head back up to meet William’s.

William’s hands lowered to Gabe’s hips. He leaned in close and murmured before closing the gap between their lips, “You’re _beautiful._ You deserve to get better.”

While they kissed, a tiny seed of hope planted itself inside Gabe. Maybe it could be okay. Maybe he could try, see if William was really right. And if it didn’t work, he could always lose the ten pounds again.

The next time Gabe used that bathroom a few hours later, he noticed the scale was gone.

Everyone was instructed by Pete not to look at Gabe and William while they all ate dessert. Pete had bought a box of donuts at the store, donuts coated in sugar and filled with cream and calories. However, it was hard _not_ to look at Gabe and William as they ate at a much slower pace. William had barely touched his; he’d picked up the donut once, stared at it, and then put it down to lick the powdered sugar off his fingers. Gabe had only taken one delicate bite, nearly gagging at the richness as he swallowed.

As everyone else made considerable dents in their donuts, it was clear William and Gabe were quite opposed to the donuts. They _wanted_ the donuts. The taste was indescribable compared to the usual days on end of bitter black coffee and apples. But they also thought of the pizza they’d had for dinner, the whole greasy slice each of them were forced to eat. It had been so good, so good that thick and heavy guilt weighed on them just knowing they’d consumed it and now had the choice to eat the donuts sitting in front of them.

Even though he had barely tasted the donut, William broke down crying and pushed the plate away with his elbows as his head sank into his hands. The entire table collectively held their breath and looked at the floor while they watched Gabe whisper to William in an attempt to calm him.

“I _can’t do it._ ” William sobbed loudly. His words were more like gasps as he struggled to speak. “I... haven’t eaten dessert in… in _three_ months. I just can’t!”

“You can, it’s okay.” Gabe reassured him, his voice hushed. “It’s just one donut. You’re not going to gain weight from one donut. Let yourself enjoy it, you deserve it.”

“I can’t, I can’t, _I can’t._ ”

Pete stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and waved to everyone else to quietly signal them to get out of the room so William and Gabe could have privacy. Everyone quickly picked up their donuts and left the room without a word.

“You can do this. You can do this, okay? Would it help if I ate mine at the same time as you?”

William sniffled. “Maybe.”

“Okay, let’s try.” Gabe pushed William’s plate back to him. They each picked up their donuts at the same time, William’s hands trembling as he lifted it to his mouth. “Ready?”

William nodded and they both took a bite of their individual donuts, dusting their lips with powdered sugar. William chewed for a few seconds, but he squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips to hold back another sob. As Gabe swallowed his bite of donut, William had to spit his half-chewed donut onto the plate and fell into crying again. “I’m… I’m sorry… I just _can’t,_ I… I don’t know why…”

Gabe put down his donut and hugged William. “It’s okay. You still did really great during dinner. You’re still making a lot of progress. I love you.” Although in reality, Gabe almost _envied_ him; he saw William’s inability to eat the donut as control.

It was about fifteen minutes past midnight. Alex was walking past the bathroom when he overheard the sound of vomiting from behind the door.

“Gabe?” He ran to the door and rattled the knob of the locked door. “Gabe, is that you?!”

The hacking continued for another thirty seconds until a hoarse voice called out, “No, it’s…” He coughed. “It’s William.”

“Can you let me in?”

“I… I’ll try.” A few seconds went by, William’s shoulder bumping out into the cabinet as he practically dragged himself across the floor. After some fumbling, there was a click when he managed to unlock the door.

Alex flung open the door and saw the sorry state of William, who was dazedly staring up at him from the floor with hollow eyes. His chin was still glistening with acid and spit, and a few strands of hair were wet as well. “Shit, dude, are you okay?”

William had to take a second to swallow back more rising acid in his throat and uttered, “Yeah.”

“I’ll help clean you up.” Alex offered. He started to go through the bathroom cabinets until he found a washcloth, which he ran underneath the faucet to wet it. He knelt down next to William and started to wipe off his tear-and-vomit speckled face. The putrid odor was nausea-inducing.

“Don’t tell them.” William begged. “That was the first time I’ve ever purged. I swear. Please don’t tell anyone.’

Alex sighed, dabbing the washcloth at a stain by the collar of William’s shirt. “I don’t know.”

“I _tried._ ” William promised. “I really tried. I’m gonna try harder. Please, just… just don’t tell them. I can’t be the reason my band can’t put out music… I can’t...”

“Look, I can’t promise anything--”

William grabbed Alex’s arm, but before he could try to persuade him, William threw up on him.

It was going to be a long night.

“If your stomach can handle it by now, I won’t tell anyone about last night if you eat these.” Alex said, sitting down on William’s bed the next morning and handing him a plate of scrambled eggs. “And not just a few bites. You have to eat most of it, okay? At least prove you’re actually trying.”

The eggs didn’t seem completely cooked, more liquid than lumpy, and although it was a normal amount, it appeared daunting on the smaller plate. Still, William took the fork from him and nodded.

His first bite of eggs, even though they weren’t of the greatest quality, was bliss. William savored the taste and ended up eating the entire plate. He did feel a tiny bit of guilt, but he missed eating eggs even more so.

William completely swore off purging, which was easy to do since he still couldn’t understand how anyone, especially Gabe, could put up with it. Instead, he started to try; he ate although everything in him begged him not to, although he could feel fat creeping into veins, although he sometimes had to eat through tears. There were times where it was hard, there were times when his guilt took over, but overall, there was something inside changing.

Meanwhile, Gabe thought he was also improving as well. Since it seemed like there were starting to be improvements, Pete loosened up enough to suggest some light drinking one night. It was really anything but light, but that wasn’t an issue to anyone.

During the night, Gabe ended up in the bathroom with William pushing him onto the counter. He leaned into Gabe, pressing kisses across the skin of his neck, every so often licking or nibbling there. Gabe moaned and reached for William’s hips. His hand brushed against his ribs through his shirt by accident.

Gabe couldn’t think about pleasure anymore, only William’s ribs. They were so easy to feel, so prominent and poking, while Gabe usually had to stretch to see his own protrude. He bet if he stretched now, there probably wouldn’t be any ribs because of all he’d eaten, all the unknown calories consumed and unknown pounds put on.

Gabe’s intoxicated self easily convinced him he was disgusting, he was undeserving of William’s show of affection to him. He just couldn’t let himself give into all Pete’s demands anymore. Pete didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, he never would understand how important it was to Gabe to lose weight. It was an _accomplishment,_ the alcohol told him, not an _illness._ He had to work harder. Everyone would understand when they saw how good Gabe looked skinny. Everyone would immediately regret forcing him to recover. Everyone would be jealous of how loose his skinny jeans would be on his stick-thin thighs.

He was somewhat aware of William unzipping his jeans, but even more focused on his new motivation. When William threw off his own shirt, revealing his flat stomach and the curves of his rib bones, Gabe was in awe for all of the wrong reasons. It was as if a muse was standing in front of him.

Gabe didn’t just need William’s body; he _needed_ William’s body.

There was always a napkin conveniently hidden in Gabe’s pocket from that point forward. He’d eat a bit, take a handful of food or spit into the napkin when nobody else was paying attention, and stuff it back into his pocket. He was careful he ate enough and only enough to subsist without looking too pale or fainting. It almost felt _too_ easy to fool everyone he was recovering. Even William believed it.

Losing weight was an art, one Gabe didn’t expect anyone else to understand.

“You both have been doing _great,_ actually! It’s awesome how far you guys have come.” Pete said. He sat on the couch opposite the one Gabe and William were sat on, anxiously awaiting his verdict. “If you guys agree, I think you guys could make more progress with seeing a therapist, and I won’t try to hinder your next albums and tours either.”

Both Gabe and William’s faces lit up with grins. “Hell yeah!”

“I’m really fucking proud of you guys.” Pete said. “I know it’s hard, but you guys have really been trying. I always believed in you two.”

While Pete hugged them, first William and Gabe second, all William could feel was genuine excitement. Gabe was almost as elated, except for the nagging feeling of guilt in his gut because he had been tricking them for days with stuffing pockets and sleeves with food. However, he couldn’t complain; Gabe would finally get to go home soon and, although he’d miss William, he’d finally be able to diet even more effectively with everyone out of his way.

Gabe was hugging William goodbye at the airport when he whispered in his ear, “I know you’ve been faking it.”

Gabe pulled back, astonished. “What do you mean?”

“I noticed you putting food in your pocket the other day. I used to play tricks like that, too.” William took Gabe’s hands in his. “Please, just promise me you’ll eat enough, okay? I don’t want to have to drop everything and fly out here because you faint again, alright? I love you.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Gabe reassured him. Ironic, considering the only thing sitting in his stomach was a sixth of an iced latte. “You eat well too. Te amo.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“Good.” William instinctively leaned in to kiss him goodbye, but stopped himself as soon he remembered they could be easily recognized in the crowded airport. “I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”

“Can’t wait.”

William took a step back, picking up his luggage that was at his side. “You’re _sure_ you’ll eat enough?”

Gabe hesitated, but quickly caught himself and said, “Of course.”

Gabe had only been back at his apartment for little more than a day when the doorbell rang. He quickly put his feet on the edges of the treadmill and stabbed at the off button, almost veering over getting off when the machine was properly off. His legs were weary, but he managed to hold himself together enough to drag himself to the door. The doorbell rang again, and Gabe called between heaving breaths, “Coming!”

When Gabe pulled at the door absentmindedly, he saw Ryland standing in the hallway.

“What the... hell are you doing here?” Gabe gasped out. He leaned against the doorframe for support. “We literally just spent weeks living together.”

Ryland studied his sweat-soaked face and instead asked, “Have you been exercising?”

Gabe knew it would be hard to hide, so he simply said, “Yeah. But I was watching a yoga video, so it was pretty low intensity. And I bought some fancy salad from some place down the street, so I ate beforehand.” In reality, he hadn’t eaten unless drinking a half cup of orange juice for breakfast counted.

Ryland shrugged. “Cool. So, I was thinking we could go grocery shopping together. Right now.”

“Kinda short notice.” Gabe said. He still hadn’t fully caught his breath and wiped at the sweat from his forehead, soaking the back of his hand. “Also, kinda weird. Did Pete put you up to this? I don’t really need to buy anything.”

“No, he didn’t. I just want to make sure you’re doing alright, at least until you see that therapist next week.”

“I’ve got a lot of stuff in my fridge.” Gabe said, even though he could count everything in his fridge on his hand. Orange juice, a bag of apples, a head of lettuce, a moldy tupperware of old rice he’d probably cooked four months ago, and a half-full bottle of Manischewitz. “I’m good. Maybe we can go grocery shopping next week if you’re so insistent on it.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Ryland rolled his eyes and easily pushed past Gabe, storming into his apartment in the direction of the kitchen.

“You can’t just barge in here like that!” Gabe called after him. He hardly bothered to close the door, running after Ryland but slowing to a hurried walk once he started to feel lightheaded. “What the hell, dude?”

By the time Gabe had caught up to him, Ryland had already opened the fridge. “Seriously?” He demanded, gesturing to the scarce shelves. “This is _nothing._ ”

“I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet. There’s more in the freezer.”

“I don’t know, the apples and lettuce look pretty fresh.” He opened the freezer. “You only have ice cubes and a microwaveable box of vegan mac and cheese in here.”

“And lots of frozen vegetables.”

“Yeah, I’m not counting one bag of fucking spinach.” Ryland slammed the freezer door shut and spun around to face Gabe. “I just don’t _get_ it. You know I didn’t mean it when I was calling you fat! It was just some silly skit for the TV show! Seriously, your life is in danger and you just keep on starving yourself like this after tricking all of us into thinking you were actually getting better. What? The? _Fuck?_ ”

Gabe was stunned into silence until he asked, “Are you going to call Pete?”

“What? No, I’m not. I appreciate his help, but this wasn’t any of his fucking business in the first place! It’s my own fault this happened, not his.” Ryland turned back to the fridge and opened it, chucking two apples at Gabe that he fumbled to catch. “Eat these right now.” He took out the orange juice and unscrewed the cap, grabbing the nearest glass to pour it. “And some orange juice, too. I’ll buy your groceries and then I’ll cook you dinner and you’re gonna eat what I make you, understood? I’m not letting you slip again.”

Gabe, dumbfounded, stood there with the two apples in his hands. Ryland held out the glass of orange juice toward him and narrowed his eyes at him with expectation. Instead of taking the glass, Gabe set the apples onto the kitchen counter. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s nothing for you to be worried about.” Gabe stated. “So leave.”

“Haha. That’s funny.” Ryland thrust the glass at him again, the orange juice almost sloshing over the top to add emphasis. “You’re drinking this and eating the two apples and going grocery shopping with me. I’m not leaving.”

Gabe stared down at the glass and remembered the smooth, tangy taste of the half cup of orange juice he’d drank that morning. It was tempting, so tempting his veins thrummed with a sense of danger at his growing temptation.

Before he could succumb, a memory resurfaced.

_What’s all this over here, back fat?_

He slapped the glass out of Ryland’s hand. The glass shattered against the wall, splattering orange juice all over. A few bright orange drops landed on Gabe’s cheek. Ryland’s mouth hung open, shocked as he stared at the pieces of the glass lying in the orange puddle. After a few seconds, he slowly looked back at Gabe and yelled, “What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!”

Gabe inhaled a sharp breath as his eyes were stuck to the floor. When he gazed up and finally met Ryland’s somewhat enraged, mostly baffled expression, it didn’t take more than a second for Gabe to decide to flee. He turned on his heel and ran, Ryland chasing after him as he called out, “Gabe, no, come back! Stop! I’m not mad, it’s just--”

Gabe had planned on locking himself in the bathroom for however long it took for this to blow over, but it didn’t seem like that would come to fruition.

He slowed and his steps became unsure as his vision started to blacken. Gabe stumbled back before he fell and was caught just before his head could hit the floor. This time, he didn’t regain consciousness no matter how loud Ryland screamed at him to wake up.

Ethereal.

“I can’t believe this.” Pete sighed, looking around the hospital room. He repeated to himself, “I can’t believe this.”

Gabe’s throat still felt raw from the feeding tube, so he opted not to say anything back.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to yourself. We… we thought you were going to _die._ ”

Gabe turned over in his bed, careful of the IV in his arm as he pulled the blanket over himself further.

“One of the guys called your brother.” Pete mentioned offhandedly. “Him and your parents are on their way here.”

A pit of nausea settled in Gabe’s stomach. He was the opposite of excited for his family, especially his father, a doctor, to see him like this after he’d stupidly given into an eating disorder. The last thing he needed right now was to be guilt-tripped in Spanish about how fortunate he was to live in this country and how worried he made everyone with this antic.

“Are you gonna say _anything?_ ”

Gabe was still quiet.

Pete sighed and stood up from the chair with a squeaky cushion he’d sat in. “Well, I guess I’ll leave so someone else can come in to visit.” Before he could step away from the bed, his phone vibrated with a text. “William finally replied. He’s working on buying another flight here right now.”

“Tell him not to come.” Gabe rasped. “He doesn’t need to.”

“I don’t think I can stop him.” Pete said as he texted a short reply back. “I’ll visit again tomorrow. Get better soon, okay, dude? I love you, man.”

“Okay.”

“He’s very fortunate we caught this early.” The doctor said. Gabe’s family all sat and stood in the room, taking a break from the awkward silence to listen attentively. “All the conditions I mentioned he has are still reversible.”

Gabe didn’t feel fortunate, especially with all the sad, pitying eyes on him. He’d rather have died instead.

“They’re going to transfer me to some eating disorder treatment center.” Gabe said while he held the phone to his ear, disgusted as if he hadn’t been the one who consented to it. He did technically have a choice since he was an adult, but after he saw his father break down into tears when he tried to refuse, he felt obligated and signed the paperwork. “It’s going to suck ass.”

“I’ve been to one of those once. When I was in high school.” William said from over the phone. He was calling as he waited for his flight to JFK to start boarding, back in the airport barely a few days after he’d come back. “It’s really not that bad.”

“They said I might have to be there at least a _month._ ”

“Well, then I guess I’ll be crashing at Pete’s for at least a month.”

“I could do so many better things with that time besides being fed multiple times a day and being told to think positively. Seriously, you’re sure you want to be here for over a month just so you can only spend a few hours with me every week?”

“Of course I do. I know what it feels like, and I want to be there for you every step of the way. I love you, alright?”

“Thanks. I love you, too. I really do appreciate it. So, how’s your own recovery going?”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad by talking about it, but I did eat three meals yesterday. So I guess that’s a step even though they probably weren’t normal portions.”

“I’m proud.” Gabe’s smile was evident in his voice. “At least someone’s doing better than me.”

“Hey, I’m proud of you too. Super proud.”

_**Three months later** _

Gabe woke up tangled in William’s arms. Now that morning light trickled through the translucent curtains, the full extent of the mess of Gabe’s bedroom could be seen. Although it was tidy for the most part when he had left it, since he’d come back the floor was strewn with suitcases he hadn’t bothered to unpack and his and William’s clothes that had been thrown off in the heat of the moment last night.

After being in treatment for almost three months, Gabe had finally been released the day before. When all the paperwork to sign himself out was done, William took him on a dinner date. It was difficult, seeing the calories listed on the menu staring back at them, but they both managed to eat full meals. The voice was still there, sure, but its influence had been greatly diminished since they started the process of recovery. Neither of them knew whether it would ever be completely gone, but they were at least starting to see their self-worth as more than weight, and that was enough on its own.

The three months were rough. The first month was made up of the mourning of hunger and occasionally snapping at doctors, fellow patients, and whoever happened to be visiting. The second month was an actual attempt at recovery, a realization of how fed up Gabe was with having an eating disorder and finally actively working towards seeing himself differently. The third month was still hard, made up of trying to comprehend what life would be like back outside the treatment facility and his family and friends’ constant reaffirmations he was doing the right thing.

Gabe loosened William’s arms from him, sat up, and glanced down at himself. Under the sheets, he could see his body, which he neither loathed nor loved presently. He supposed he hadn’t gained much weight considering he hadn’t lost much in the first place, but he didn’t let himself dwell on the thought of how bloated his stomach still felt or how much his thigh gap had lessened over the month. He laid back and turned on his side to admire William’s asleep face.

It was still so early. Gabe had no idea whether he would ever be able to move past his eating disorder completely, whether he’d relapse, whether William would relapse, whether he’d ever be able to see food normally ever again. Only time would tell.

All that mattered was he felt healthy and _loved,_ loved by his family and friends and fans, and especially William who was lying next to him at the moment. And maybe that could be worth more than being skinny.


End file.
